


Going Dutch

by tattooeddevil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amsterdam, Brothels, Case Fic, Crack, Football | Soccer, Gen, Haunting, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-14
Updated: 2013-01-14
Packaged: 2017-11-25 11:53:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/638635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattooeddevil/pseuds/tattooeddevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finally, Dean gets to go to Amsterdam and save some hookers. They’re just- orange?!</p>
<p>Set in S04, somewhere between Monster Movie and Wishful Thinking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Going Dutch

“No! Why do I have to suffer through an eight hour plane ride just because your third cousin twice removed has a ghost problem? Isn’t there anyone local that can help?”

Bobby rolled his eyes.

“It’s my first cousin directly related and you have an angel to zap you there and back. And no, there isn’t anyone local, I already tried.”

Dean harrumphed and folded his arms across his chest in annoyance.

“So where is it? No doubt some ice cold, tiny little reject of Russia with moustached women and home brewed vodka that works better as gasoline?”

This is where Bobby smirked.

“The Netherlands. Amsterdam. Haunted brothel.”

By the time Dean was done processing, he looked like one of those cartoon characters from the Looney Tunes. Eyes bulging out of their sockets, mouth gaping wide with his tongue lolling to the side and a ridiculously over-excited look on his face. He wasted no time after that.

“Cas! Where’s that angel when you need him? Cas!”

Nothing.

“Cas! Get your feathery ass down here, pronto! I have naked whores to save, come on!”

“I believe the term prostitutes is a better socially accepted name for women in that profession, Dean.”

Dean whirled around to face Castiel. He ignored the smart-ass remark and beamed at Cas instead, trying out his best puppy-dog look. And where was Sam when you needed him, too?

“Destination Amsterdam, dude. Now.”

Castiel looked confused, but wilted under Dean’s beaming grin. Dean was almost vibrating with excitement and Bobby had trouble not breaking out in hysterical laughter. Castiel lifted a hand to touch Dean’s forehead and zap them to Amsterdam, but Bobby was quicker.

“Don’t you think you’re forgetting something?”

Dean turned to him with a blank look on his face and Castiel mirrored him from a few inches behind Dean. Bobby sighed.

“Your brother? You know, Sam?”

A blush spread over Dean’s face at the realization he had forgotten all about his little brother, but he quickly composed himself.

“Sammy won’t be interested in this case, Bobby, he’s a hermit!”

Bobby rolled his eyes again.

“You’ll need someone to fend off the pissed off ghost when you salt and burn the bones. Just wait until he gets here and then let Cas zap you away.”

Dean flopped down on the couch with a deep, irritated sigh where he sat and pouted. Castiel stood beside him with his trademark blank look on his face, waiting for an order or something else to do. Bobby refrained from sighing annoyed and went into the kitchen to call Sam in peace instead.

“Hey Bobby, what’s up?”

“Where are you, boy?”

There was some rustling from the other end of the line.

“Just picking up some supplies and groceries. I’m almost done. What’s going on?”

“Your idiot brother is jumping at the bit to get on with this job I threw your way and he is this-close to leaving without you. Angel-style.”

Bobby could practically **hear** Sam roll his eyes on the other end of the line.

“What, you finally found us a case that involves naked women?”

The silence sort of speaks for itself.

“Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“Unfortunately I am not.”

Sam groaned before sighing long-sufferingly.

“Fine, I’ll be right back. Tell Dean to keep it in his pants a little while longer, I’ve been traumatized enough as a kid having to listen to him jerk off in the bed next to me. Come to think of it, he still does that and I still get scarred every time. Just- Never mind, I’m on my way.”

Bobby smiled at Sam’s rant before hanging up. Dean was still sitting on the couch, but now he was animatedly talking to Castiel. When Bobby came back into the living room, Dean turned to face him and the grin on his face almost made Bobby reconsider sending him to Amsterdam. Dean would probably do more damage than good in a brothel, no matter how easy the salt and burn.

“I was just telling Cas about-”

“I don’t really want to know!”

Dean pouted at Bobby’s interruption, but Bobby couldn’t feel guilty about it.

“I’m pretty sure it was something nasty and I am so not in the mood. Sam’s on his way, you think you can cool it till he gets here?”

Dean nodded sullenly and sank back against the couch cushions. He crossed his arms over his chest and brooded like a three year old. It almost made Bobby laugh if it hadn’t exasperated him. Thankfully, he didn’t have to look at the moody pile of Winchester too long; not fifteen minutes after hanging up on Sam, was Sam pulling up into the junk yard in the Impala. The car hadn’t completely come to a halt and Dean was already up and bouncing over to Castiel.

“Sam’s here, let’s go. Cas, just drop us in the middle of the red light district.”

Castiel obediently lifted his hand to zap Dean someplace and Bobby had to intervene again.

“Just hang on, ya idjit. Wait for Sam, let me tell you the specifics of this case and **then** run off, guns blazing.”

Dean waggled his eyebrows suggestively and Bobby had two seconds to wonder what he had said to warrant a dirty remark.

“It won’t be my guns that will blazing.”

Ah, that.

“Thank you. I needed that.”

Dean rolled his eyes at Bobby’s grouse and then bounced to the front door to wait by it impatiently. Bobby had no idea what Sam was doing out there, taking his damn sweet time with it too, but he hoped it lasted a little while longer just to see Dean vibrating in place with a mix of excitement and impatience that quickly shifted more to impatience than excitement. When Sam finally did come in, he was carrying a few plastic bags filled with groceries and one paper bag with the logo of the gun store in town on it. Dean followed him inside like an over-eager puppy, but Sam didn’t seem to notice him. Or he was really good at ignoring annoying-as-hell Dean. Probably the latter, he had years of practice after all.

Sam handed the food to Bobby.

“Everything you need for your famous chili and beer.”

All a man needed.

“Thanks. You got ammo too?”

Sam held up the bag from the gun store with a nod.

“Yeah, cleaned Jack right out of shells, but I think I got enough to last us a while.”

“ **Helloooooo!** Am I invisible or something?”

Sam and Bobby turned to Dean simultaneously. Dean was still standing by the door, but he was now pursing his lips with one hand on a cocked hip instead of bouncing in place like a Chihuahua on acid. Sam sighed.

“What, Dean?”

Dean raised an eyebrow and shifted hips in annoyance.

“Uhm, whores to save? Haunted brothel? Amsterdam? The Angel Express? Like, now?”

Sam glanced at Castiel who all this time had just been standing in the middle of Bobby’s living room, watching the goings-on with his trademark blank-but-slightly-confused-too look on his face. He was now looking at Sam with that same empty stare and Sam rolled his eyes to the room at large.

“Seriously? This can’t wait two freaking minutes?”

Dean grew instantly serious.

“No, Sam. These women are in grave danger and the only person to help them survive this horror is me. Are we, I mean. We.”

It took all of Sam’s willpower not to burst out laughing. He couldn’t stop himself from violently rolling his eyes though and Dean scowled at him.

“Just hurry your ass up, bitch.”

“Shut up, jerk.”

Dean sighed dramatically and Sam answered with an irritated sigh of his own. Sam knew he wasn’t going to win this one though, so he turned to Bobby and gestured for him to go on and tell them about the case.

“Strange goings-on at a brothel in Amsterdam. Men keep trying to ‘save’ the women, Pretty Woman style. Say the women deserve better, that they love them, the whole nine yards. The manager is an old friend from Vegas who relocated to Amsterdam years ago. He knows what I do and with twelve men expressing their undying love for his hookers in a week, it sort of dawned on him that it might not be normal. Add to that the death of a man at the brothel the day before this started, I’d say he’s right. Hence the call to me and me calling you.”

Dean grinned at Bobby.

“Did he die in the saddle? You know, banging a hooker?”

Both Bobby and Sam sighed, but Dean ignored them both. A dreamy look settled on his face.

“That’s how I wanna go. With a beautiful girl riding me and one last orgasm.”

Sam turned back to Bobby and thought about everything for a second before nodding.

“So what’s the plan? We go to Amsterdam, find the bones and burn them? Sounds easy enough, we can be back here in a few hours.”

“Leave some room for a bit of fun there, Sammy.”

Sam once again ignored Dean’s leer and checked his bag for supplies instead of replying. When he was sure he had everything they needed for the salt and burn, he finally turned to Castiel.

“All right, zap us to Amsterdam.”

_ZAP_

“I’ll pick you up in 24 hours. I’ll find you.”

With that, Castiel fluttered his wings and was gone. Sam and Dean took a good look around and determined that yes, they were indeed in Amsterdam, in the Red Light District. They were dropped off in front of the brothel, appropriately called “Love Club 21”, and Dean’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree when he caught sight of the “menu” outside.

“Thai massage parlor.”

He turned to Sam with a wide, dreamy smile.

“I’ll finally get my happy ending!”

Sam sighed and whacked Dean on the back of his head.

“God, you’re an idiot. Let’s just go inside and talk to the manager to see what happened to the dead guy and how we can gank his ghost.”

Sam took a few steps towards the door, Dean on his heels, when something clicked in his head. He stopped abruptly, Dean literally bumped into him from the back, and looked around the street again. Something was off.

“Why is everything orange?”

Dean rubbed his nose in annoyance and glared at Sam, until the question registered and he turned to look up and down the canal street, too. There were orange flags going from street light to street light, the tablecloths on the terraces were orange, the facades of the shop and houses were orange, even windows were dressed with orange curtains.

“What the hell?”

“I don’t know.”

“No seriously, Sam. What the hell?”

“I don’t know!”

They stared at everything around them and then Dean registered the people milling about too.

“Is that dude wearing a cheese on his head?”

Sam looked at where Dean was pointing and immediately choked on his own spit in surprise.

“It is. And his girlfriend is dressed like a windmill.”

And then they noticed just about everyone on the streets was wearing something weird. White caps with long, blond braids; shirts with lions on them; full-body, orange lion suits; they even saw someone walking by in orange, blue, white and red body paint. And everyone was acting like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like they weren’t walking around being complete morons.

“I ask again, what the hell?”

“And I say again, I don’t know. Why would anyone walk around dressed like that? Why would they possibly look like that?”

“The Dutch soccer team is playing in an hour. European championships.”

Dean and Sam whirled around to face the voice behind them. A short, balding man in an equally orange shirt was grinning at them like the cat that got the canary and he held his hand out to introduce himself as Jack. He jerked a thumb to the brothel behind him.

“I’m the manager here. You must be Sam and Dean.”

Sam shook Jack’s hand with a nod.

“I’m Sam, this is my brother Dean.”

Jack shook Dean’s hand before looking him over with a leer.

“You know, you would make a killing working for one of my other places. Those lips can make you a very rich man.”

Dean scowled, but Sam noticed a slight blush on his cheeks. Dean loved getting his ego stroked all right.

“Nah, I’m strictly buying, not selling.”

Jack shrugged and gestured for them to come inside. He led the way into the scarcely lit massage parlor, past a row of closed doors and through the only door marked “staff only”. Dean and Sam followed him through the narrow hallway to his office at the far end of the building. Jack showed them to the couch in the room and pointed at a large screen hanging on the wall. He pressed a few buttons on his computer and the screen came to life with multiple views of several rooms and the entrance to the brothel.

“Security cameras. They record everything but the bathrooms. No clients allowed in there anyway.”

Dean was immediately engrossed.

“Camera’s in the hooker-rooms, dude!”

Sam rolled his eyes and turned to Jack.

“Did they record what happened to the guy that died?”

Jack typed in a few things and the screen switched to an old recording. It was a shot from somewhere near the ceiling and they could clearly see the girl climbing on top of a rather large-ish man lying on the table. She immediately started riding him enthusiastically and Sam had to look away with burning cheeks. Dean was staring at the screen though, a smile smirk playing around his mouth. It never dimmed, not even when the man on the table started to jerk uncontrollably and foam started to form at the corners of his mouth. In fact, it got even bigger and when the video ended, Dean turned to Jack with a wide smile.

“That was awesome. He actually died while getting fucked. At least he went out with a bang, right?”

Sam groaned and buried his face in his hands.

“Bad, Dean. So very, very bad.”

Jack laughed though and thumped Dean on the back good-naturedly.

“That he did, my friend. That he did. Heart attack. Probably too many burgers and a little too much exercise, if you know what I mean. Freaked my girl out, but she’ll be fine. Once old Mister Jansen stops haunting this damn place.”

That pulled Sam back into the conversation.

“How do you know it’s him?”

“Mister Jansen was a regular here. He was notorious for proposing marriage to the girls. Doesn’t matter which one, he’d profess his undying love for them before getting on one knee and presenting them with a ring. Expensive one, too. He said he’d save them from this life of despair and disgust and treat them like princesses, if they would just marry him. He did it for years, I’m not kidding. That last time though, he didn’t just propose marriage and give my girl his regular speech about saving her from the depths of society, but he broke down in tears and begged her to save **him**. It was a little strange, but my girl didn’t really think much of it. He reined it in pretty fast after that, she got him on the table and you know what happened next.”

“He croaked.”

Sam huffed.

“Yes, Dean, thank you. Subtle.”

“Well, he did. And we saw it all in technicolor and surround sound.”

Dean sounded way too excited and smug about that and Sam chose to tune him out. Instead, he looked at Jack.

“So now every man that steps foot in here gets all doe-eyed and think they’ve fallen in love with the girls?”

“Every man that gets within a feet of one of the girls, yes. It’s pathetic, really. I mean, it’s not really a bother, they still pay and if anything, business has picked up. The girls are getting annoyed though and I like to keep them happy.”

With that being said, Sam turns to Dean and points a warning finger at him.

“You are **not** getting anywhere near those girls, you hear me?”

Dean pouted and rolled his eyes at the same time and Sam was momentarily distracted by how utterly ridiculous that made Dean look. He glared at Dean even harder though, not backing down on this one until Dean agreed. Dean caved fast.

“Fine, fine. I won’t go near the girls. Until we salted and burned the bastard.”

Sam could live with that. Like he was gonna be able to keep Dean away at all. If he could keep him from going all Richard Gere on the hookers, that was enough of a win for him. Whatever Dean did with his dick after they eliminated the chances of them getting hit with ghost-mojo, was not Sam’s concern.

“Jack, can you maybe call the family and ask where Mister Jansen is buried? We’d like to go pay our respects.”

Jack smirked and immediately made the call. The family informed them their poor father was buried at the city cemetery not too far from where they were, so Jack borrowed them a couple of bikes and gave them directions and his phone number if they needed help. Dean had a little trouble adjusting to having to ride a bike at all and Sam had issues with the small size of the bike. They managed to get going though and half an hour later, they were checking out the Buitenveldert cemetery and Mister Jansen’s grave. There wasn’t much security and the cemetery was huge, so they peddled back to the brothel without much worries. That is, until they took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up in a big park surrounded by orange people.

“Uhm, Sammy? I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.”

“No shit. Okay, where did we come from?”

They both looked around, but the ocean of orange was closing them in until all they could see was orange. It reminded Sam of the prison they once spent too much time in - on the wrong side of the bars - and he immediately felt panic surge up in his body.

“Dean. We need to get out of here. Now.”

But Dean wasn’t listening to Sam. At all. He had abandoned his bike and had an arm slung over a guy dressed as a big carrot, with a beer already half empty in his free hand. Damn it.

Sam got off his bike and put it up against Dean’s bike that was leaning against a streetlight. Which was covered in orange flags. Of course. When they got back - **if** they ever got back from this orange hellhole - Sam was throwing out anything in their wardrobe even resembling the color orange. As scary as that jail had been, this was way more traumatizing.

“Sam! Sammy, come on!”

Dean was being dragged away by a lot of different men and women and really, if Sam was ever sure he should be keeping a close eye on his brother, this was it. He followed the rowdy - orange - group to what seemed to be their base in the park; a large - orange - sheet with half a mountain of empty plastic glasses on it. There was a beer tap next to the sheet and piles of food everywhere. Someone had set up a barbeque to roast burgers and hotdogs and there were strangely dressed people everywhere.

Dean got dragged to the beer tap and Sam set up his position a few feet away. People were looking at him a little funnily, probably the frown between his eyes, and one very drunk girl threw an orange shawl across his shoulders. It said “we are the champions” and Sam guessed the soccer team had won. And apparently they had ended up in the middle of the celebrations.

“Je mag wel wat vrolijker kijken, gast! We hebben gewonnen!” (*)

Whatever the guy in front of him was saying, Sam didn’t understand a single word of it. The guy was obviously drunk and obviously Dutch and Sam put on his best shrug and puppy eyes look. The guy frowned before he smiled wide and clapped Sam on the back with a few more Dutch, unintelligible words. He sauntered off then and Sam sighed with relief. He really didn’t want to be here. He hated soccer, he hated the color orange and he hated drunk people. Oh yeah, he also hated being dragged off by a drunken mob when they had a job to do.

“Damn it, Dean, let’s go!”

His outburst momentarily stunned everything within ten feet of Sam, but it got Dean’s attention too and that was all he wanted.

“Can we go now, please? We have a job to do.”

Dean clapped him on the back with a grin.

“Oh come on, Samantha. Stop being a prissy bitch. We can’t do anything until tomorrow! Why not enjoy the party a little?”

“No Dean, no. We’re going back to that cemetery and we’re finishing the job now. Tonight. When no one is paying attention to anything but the soccer and their orange beers.”

Dean glanced at the orange colored drink in his hand with a small frown.

“Yeah, even I have to admit this is weird.”

“Great. Can we go then, please?”

Dean considered it for a moment and Sam grasped at a stray thought.

“The sooner we salt and burn Mister Jansen, the sooner you can get to your other party.”

Dean immediately snapped to attention and handed off his beer.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

Dean brushed past Sam to get back to their bikes and Sam had to almost run to keep up. And he’s the one with the longer legs. On the way back to the cemetery - it’s taken a little longer than before since it’s easier to find your way around before you get lost, oh really Dean? - he called Jack to let him know they’re gonna stop Mister Jansen’s ghost right now. He also surreptitiously asked Jack for directions - we don’t need Jack’s help, Sammy, I can navigate, I know where we’re going! - before steering Dean in the right direction.

The cemetery was still abandoned and they found the grave easily enough. They borrowed two shovels from the office at the entrance and quickly dug down to Mister Jansen’s coffin. Dean was working like a maniac and it made Sam smirk. And take advantage of it. By the time they reached the coffin, Dean was pouring with sweat and Sam wasn’t even out of breath. Dean broke open the lid just before Sam threw him the lighter fluid and salt then helped him out of the grave.

“Okay, torch the dude, Sammy. I got me some hookers to fuck!”

Sam leaned in and sniffed Dean dramatically.

“Oof, you might want to shower first. You stink, man!”

Dean scowled at him and gestured at the open grave.

“That’s the smell of manliness. Just burn the damn guy already, will you?”

Sam dropped a match in the coffin and the whole thing went up in a blaze. Mister Jansen made a short appearance a few feet away, but he wasn’t strong enough to get past anything other than a whispered “but I love them!”

When they’re both satisfied all the remains have been burned - well, excuse me for making sure, Dean! - they closed up the grave again and put the shovels back. The cycle back to the hotel was easier than the first time, now that Sam was navigating and not Dean, and it took them less than 25 minutes. It might have been the fact that Dean had started pedalling faster and faster the closer they got to the hotel.

Horny bastard.

Jack was happy to hear they decided to put a stop to Mister Jansen’s ghost earlier than planned.

“Thank you boys so much, this will keep my girls happy and business will go back to usual.”

He turned to Dean with a grin.

“I would like to pay you fine gentlemen for your good work, if that’s all right with you?”

Dean grinned back at Jack before waggling his eyebrows at Sam. Sam merely rolled his eyes.

“Before you throw yourself at these women, can we please make sure Mister Jansen’s ghost is really gone? I’d hate for you to turn into some kind of romantic fool.”

Dean sighed long-sufferingly, but nodded too. He knew damn well they needed to make sure they did their jobs right, he just had better things to do than watch his little brother be the responsible one. Stingy bastard.  
Jack lead them to the bar area of the brothel and called a few girls in. Dean immediately started vibrating with excitement when his eyes took in all the miles and miles of naked skin; and Sam had to physically step in between Dean and the women to address Dean.

“Thirty seconds, Dean, that’s all I ask. Thirty seconds and then you can screw your brains out all you want.”

Dean nodded impatiently before pushing Sam to the side and stepping up to a leggy blonde. She smiled seductively at him and Dean stepped close to her.

“Hi.”

“Hi. I’m Dean.”

“I’m Hannah.”

“It is very nice to meet you, Hannah.”

The girl glanced at Sam and Jack quickly, before looking back at Dean with a little bit of hesitation. Dean glanced at Sam too and Sam shrugged. It’s been more than thirty seconds and so far, Dean doesn’t seem to want to drag Hannah out of here and make an honest woman of her. Dean beamed with joy before wrapping an arm around Hannah’s waist and pulling her against him.

“It seems you and I have an appointment, courtesy of Mister Jansen.”

Hannah chuckled and pulled away from Dean to make her way to the door at the back. Dean followed her like an obedient puppy about to get his favorite toy and all Sam could do is shake his head in exasperation.

“Go. Have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Sam declined the girl Jack offered him in favor of getting some sleep. The next morning when his alarm goes off, it’s apparent Dean’s bed had not been slept in. He takes a quick shower before packing up their stuff and making his way downstairs to Jack’s brothel. Dean’s already waiting outside, leaning against the wall with his eyes closed and a small, blissed-out smile on his face.

“I see you’ve had your fun.”

Dean cracked one eye open to look at Sam before it slid shut again and he grinned.

“Hannah really knew her stuff. I even learned a thing or two.”

Sam snorted.

“Great. Now can we get out of here, then?”

Dean nodded with a hum.

“I already called for Cas. You know, you really need to loosen up, Sammy. Have some fun, get laid, live a little.”

“Uh-huh. And what-”

“Hello Dean. Sam.”

Castiel’s sudden appearance startled them both, as it does always, and they turned to face the angel with wide eyes. Which widen even further when they see what he is wearing.

“Cas. Is your trenchcoat- orange?!”

“I thought I should blend in with the locals, so I don’t stand out so much. Is this not what they normally wear here?”

Dean broke out in hysterical laughter and Cas looked at Sam questioningly. Sam merely sighed.

“Don’t even ask, Cas. Let’s just go. Please.”

_(*) “Cheer up, dude! We won!”_


End file.
